


Marked

by glitterburn (orphan_account)



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: F1slash Secret Santa 2009, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-28
Updated: 2010-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-12 06:43:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/glitterburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heikki's thinking of getting inked, and Kimi explains the meaning behind his tattoos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marked

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to Deltachild for the information on Kimi's tattoos.

"So... I heard you were thinking of getting a tattoo."

Heikki glances up at Kimi, who's lying stretched out on a towel on the top bench of the sauna. Steam mists the dim lights, bathing Kimi's naked body in a sultry glow. Hard muscles are softened, drawn into shadows. Heikki admires him for a moment before he says, "I've been thinking about it for a while."

Kimi's gaze is heavy-lidded and lazy as he smiles. "Seems a shame to mark such pale, pretty skin."

"You did it." Heikki pulls up his knees and leans forward. The towel is rough and nubbly beneath his arse and thighs, and he feels the sweat run down to soak into the thick cloth. "Besides, the decision is personal. It takes time to find the right design."

"Or you can just do it on a whim because you're bored and drunk." Kimi runs the fingers of his left hand over the top of his right wrist where the smiley, wiggle-rayed sun used to be. It's covered up now by the larger tribal design, but Heikki knows the rays of the sun are still visible. Some mistakes can never be forgotten.

"Tattooists won't work on you if you're drunk."

"They will if you give them enough money." Kimi lifts both hands and combs them through his hair. It's dark with sweat and curls wildly at the ends, no longer the neat, corporate hairstyle of an F1 driver. Kimi made his decision about his future the moment he let his hair grow long.

Heikki resists the urge to mimic the action. His own hair, finer and paler than Kimi's, is cut very short. The drenched heat of the sauna prickles his scalp, and if he concentrates he can feel the individual droplets of sweat forming around the hair follicles. That's how short his hair is, and now Heikki wishes he'd thought to grow it long, like Kimi.

"We need more steam," Kimi says.

The bucket and ladle are on the floor. Heikki reaches down, scoops up the water, and hurls it onto the stove. There's a violent hiss, a cloud of steam, a wash of heat. Heikki sits back and closes his eyes, feeling the blast go over him. His skin tightens and burns; his eyelashes spike with moisture, and fresh sweat slides down his body.

He sits and drowses in the semi-darkness, his thoughts unfocused, though he's supremely aware of Kimi seated above him. Desire beats a slow, insistent pulse; a ribbon of lust tangling and unravelling. Kimi is unpredictable at the best of times, and Heikki never knows when his friend will be in the mood for conversation, for fucking, or for plain hard drinking.

He's almost nodding off when Kimi says, "You never asked why I got them."

Heikki blinks the sting of sweat from his eyes. "Huh?"

"My tattoos." Kimi touches the roof of the sauna, tracing his fingers over the wooden panelling. "You never asked why."

"It's personal. I wouldn't assume..."

Kimi sits up, swinging his legs down to the bench below. His toes touch Heikki's towel, and Heikki puts out a hand to touch Kimi's fine-boned ankle. It's tentative, more a question than a caress, and when Kimi doesn't move, Heikki strokes up his shin towards his knee.

With a smile, Kimi tousles Heikki's hot, sweat-streaked hair before he stands. He steps down onto the floor, spreads his towel next to Heikki, and pushes open the door to the sauna.

A draught of cooler air swirls inside the room, touching Heikki's skin and raising goose-bumps. He gives an involuntary shiver even though it's not that cold. A moment later he's alone, the door thudding shut and the temperature rising again.

There's the sound of the shower running. Heikki imagines Kimi beneath the spray of cold water, his flesh tight with the chill, his nipples puckered and his muscles taut. The shower is turned off, and Heikki listens to the slap of feet across the tiled bathroom floor. He leans against the wall, allowing the heat soaked in the wood to dissolve the tension in his shoulders.

Kimi comes back with drinks: miniature bottles of koskenkorva, the glass and labels frosted over with ice, and two larger bottles of beer. He offers the kosko first. Heikki twists off the cap and knocks back the spirit, the splash of fiery cold a shockwave down his throat. Next is the beer. Heikki nurses his bottle, enjoying the feel of the cold glass against his thigh, and watches Kimi drink with his usual single-minded purpose.

The stove ticks in the silence. Warmth and darkness wrap around them, muffled and comforting, and Heikki feels the thump of his heartbeat as he relaxes.

Kimi slouches, his hips thrust forward as his head tips back to rest on the top bench. The position draws Heikki's attention to the gleam of sweat on Kimi's chest, on the taut definition of his abs, and on the quiescent shape of his cock.

"I got the sun because I was drunk," Kimi says. "Very fucking drunk."

Heikki rests his beer bottle on his knee. "Why the sun?"

"I needed light." Kimi stares at the window set into the sauna door, his gaze unfocused. "But I didn't want to admit I needed light, so it was a stupid scribble. A smiley face on the sun. Like something for children. Maybe I was like a child back then, feeling naughty and cheeky. A mocking smile, a test for the team—would they let me get away with it?"

"I remember when Michael got that henna tattoo," Heikki says. "When people thought it was real—the rumour, the controversy..."

Kimi takes a swig of beer. "He does have a real tattoo."

"He does?" Heikki raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"Inside right thigh. At the very top." Kimi doesn't look at him. "Chinese symbols, very small."

"What does it say?"

"I can't read Chinese." There's a pause, then Kimi adds, "They're the same symbols Mika has on his arm."

They're silent for a while after that. Heikki doesn't want to think of Kimi with Michael. He's just as disturbed by the thought of Michael and Mika, of the placement of their tattoos and what it might mean.

Kimi lifts his beer and drains it. The muted light in the sauna glints off the line of the bottle and catches Heikki's attention. From there it's a natural progression for his gaze to slip to the bold curlicues of the tribal encircling Kimi's right wrist and forearm.

"And that one?" Heikki points with his beer before taking a sip. "Why did you choose that?"

"This?" Kimi sets his empty beer bottle on the floor and holds up his right hand, examining the tribal. "Felipe's idea."

Heikki remembers hearing something about that around the paddock. Felipe said he'd designed the tattoo, though Heikki thought it looked no different to any other tribal he'd seen. Not that he was an expert, but still... He stares at it now, at the loops and curves of dark ink. "It looks aggressive."

"Masculine." Kimi snorts and reaches across to snag Heikki's half-empty bottle. He takes a deep swig of the remaining beer and wipes his forearm across his mouth. "It's a warrior's tattoo. The markings of a man. Or so Felipe said."

"I don't think it would suit me," Heikki says, and then he realises how that must sound and tries to amend his words. "I mean, I'm not really a warrior."

"No." Kimi's gaze rakes over him, amused and judgmental, and then he grins and lifts the bottle to his lips. "You didn't even complain when I took your beer."

Heikki snorts. "Maybe I don't like the taste."

"Maybe." Kimi finishes the second bottle. "More kosko?"

"Later." Heikki stretches out his legs, his toes pushing against Kimi's thigh. "Tell me about the last tattoo."

"Di Montezemolo's idea." Kimi crosses his right arm over his chest. He holds his left arm against his side, his fingers tight around the bicep. It's as if he doesn't want to move and look at the long tattoo inked on the inside of his forearm.

Astonishment spins through Heikki's head and he sits forward, regretting the sudden movement when the heat catches up with him. "Luca di Montezumolo told you to get a tattoo?"

Kimi shrugs slightly. "To remind me who I am. Who I was."

Heikki draws in his breath. "The Iceman."

"Unbeatable. A winner." Kimi looks at him, and his smile is tinged with bitterness. "I have to be reminded of what I can do. Otherwise, I do nothing. After all, ice is inert. It can choke rivers and split mountains, but it is inert. Frozen. It is only the situation that makes ice a destructive force."

Heikki doesn't know how to respond to this, so he's silent. Kimi continues to smile, the gleam of challenge in his eyes. When Heikki shakes his head, Kimi moves closer, scoops water from the wooden bucket, and splashes it onto the stove.

Steam hisses and sputters, a blanketing cloud of wet heat covering them. Heikki breathes it in and feels the burn at the back of his throat. His chest tightens, and all of a sudden he can't breathe. He stumbles to his feet and pushes open the door, emerging into the comparative chill of the bathroom. For a moment he stands there, disoriented, and then he hears the sauna door click shut behind him.

Kimi wraps a towel around Heikki's shoulders. "Want to go roll in the snow?"

"Sure. Why not." Heikki follows him through the house to the back door, then out onto the veranda. The cold of winter strikes him, and he huddles into the residual warmth of the towel. Kimi is standing naked, seemingly oblivious to the frozen temperature. He hops down into the snow and performs a fast, full-body roll through a deep snowdrift.

Heikki shivers. Though he's plunged straight from hot sauna to cold snow countless times before, he doesn't want to do it tonight. Not after watching Kimi. He remains on the veranda, the cold seeping into his pores.

Kimi packs snow tight into his hand and climbs back onto the veranda. He yanks at the towel and presses the snowball against Heikki's chest. It's so cold that the first touch doesn't register—and then comes pain, as sharp as the finest needles, a stabbing that draws out warmth and replaces it with a strange, frozen fire.

With a hiss of protest, Heikki jerks away. The snowball drops between them and splats onto the veranda.

"That's what it feels like," Kimi says. "When you get a tattoo, it feels like fire and cold. It makes you feel alive."

Heikki drags up the towel, rubbing at the cold wet patch on his chest. "Thank you, but I already feel alive."

Kimi looks at him with a steady, measuring expression. "Then you have no need for a tattoo."

"But..." Heikki feels offended somehow, but he can't put the emotion into words. The more he struggles with it, the colder he becomes, until at last Kimi smiles and reaches out a hand.

"There are other ways in which a man can be marked. Let's go inside and I'll show you." His smile is wicked and delicious, promising much.

Heikki follows him into the warmth. He leaves his towel at the door.


End file.
